


Focus

by mlyn



Category: Black Hawk Down (2001), Bourne Supremacy (2004)
Genre: Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-19
Updated: 2006-12-19
Packaged: 2017-10-26 11:08:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/282347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mlyn/pseuds/mlyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kirill drops in on Jeff with a warning…and maybe some ulterior motives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Focus

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Heartofslash](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Heartofslash).



> I owe this pairing, some characterizations and non-movie references to the wonderful Heartofslash. Without her, Kirill would never have come out to play.

It was only 1630 hours when Jeff Sanderson got back to his temporary office, but it was black as midnight in Toronto. If there was one thing he didn't like about working in this city, it was the short days of winter. It made it damn hard to get things done without night-vision equipment.

First thing first: coffee, then some food, then re-equip. He had plans to meet Hoot in Chicago to hire a contractor for a South America job, so he had to catch a train back to the States at twenty-three hundred. Which left him six and a half hours of leisure. Plenty of time to turn on the foot-massaging slippers and watch something pornographic on the internet.

But his letter opener was out of place on the desk. He fingered it, then palmed it and smoothly turned.

"Getting old."

He knew that voice, coming from the darkest corner of the office. When his eyes had adjusted completely, he recognized the profile, too.

"Maybe I am," he conceded. "Come to retire me?"

Kirill moved, and Jeff could see him a little better. "To postpone your retirement. I have word that this base is compromised."

"Why are you telling me?"

Kirill finally came all the way up to Sanderson. "Because I haven't forgotten the last time we…worked together. I respect you too much."

Jeff couldn't think of anything to say to that, so all he managed was, "Your English has improved."

Kirill ignored him and turned to go. "Just stop being stupid, and get the fuck out of this city."

Jeff dropped the letter opener onto the desk. Kirill didn't turn, but he did stop.

"Have you had dinner?" Jeff asked.

In the bathhouse, Kirill had sworn and yelled and thrashed. He was slightly more composed now—he knew what to expect when Sanderson dropped trou, and there wasn't Hoot in the equation—but that didn't stop him from coming hard after Jeff had spent a good long while sucking his cock. Sanderson moved his mouth away at the right moment, late enough to taste his precome but early enough to avoid getting hit in the eye with Kirill's first energetic spurt. Kirill groaned and shook, the lamplight shining on his sweaty chest.

Jeff climbed back onto the couch and stretched out, chest to chest, letting Kirill's semen squish between their stomachs. He bent his head and bit a nipple. Kirill's hips jerked like they were on strings.

"I wanted to fuck you," Kirill gasped.

"Nobody but Hoot fucks me, remember?" Jeff chewed on the nipple and listened to Kirill swear. He kept switching between Croatian and German, like he couldn't remember which one Jeff understood. It was funny.

Finally he realized Kirill was demanding to be let up, so Jeff went into a push-up and watched Kirill wriggle off the couch. In a flash he saw the legs straddle his calves and felt Kirill's weight settle, but too close to his feet. He was too far away to fuck.

But just the right distance to reach with his mouth, Jeff realized as he felt hot breath on him.

Kirill sank his teeth into one tensed ass cheek and made a growling sound. Jeff crushed the couch cushion in one hand, his head tingling. He was throbbing in every limb, every square inch of skin sensitized. He could practically count tastebuds as Kirill swiped his tongue over the bite mark. And then Kirill pursed his lips and sucked.

Jeff lifted his hips, back muscles straining. His entire focus was on Kirill's mouth and its proximity from more sensitive flesh, although the underside of his ass was pretty fucking sensitive. So he kept his hips up, sometimes rocking back to get Kirill to move on, muttering and biting his knuckles. And then Kirill palmed his balls for a gentle tug and grope, and Jeff had had enough.

"Would you fucking get on with it?"

"With what?" Kirill was smirking. Jeff could tell. He heard that sound enough in Hoot's voice.

"With…whatever you're planning that doesn't involve your dick in my ass."

"What about my tongue?" And just as Jeff was processing that proposal, Kirill made good. He swooped down and pushed Jeff's ass cheeks apart, burying his face between them. He made one long swipe of tongue up Jeff's cleft from his balls, leaving the skin tingling with drying saliva. Jeff squirmed and tried not to whine like a girl. What came out of his mouth was a low stream of dirty talk. Unfocused, but not completely embarrassing. "Oh, fuck yeah. Fucking eat me, goddammit. You know you don't get ass like this on the continent."

Kirill put his tongue in his hole. _Finally_. Jeff moaned and moved his hips back, and felt Kirill thrust his tongue _deeper_. Oh, god. His mind was gone. Everything in Jeff's body was focused on his asshole. It felt like a slightly firm feather back there. Teasing, tantalizing. Warm and wet, flicking out and over his hole to stir up his nerve endings some more. Maddening.

Jeff looked back over his shoulder. Kirill's dark head was bent between his legs. Just the sight made Jeff's cock ache. He looked so uninhibited, yet completely intent on what he was doing. His hair was sticking up with sweat, sounds coming from his working mouth. Jesus christ, this was _Kirill_. The deadliest man in Europe. No, maybe the northern hemisphere. If he wanted to kill Sanderson right now he could do it in a heartbeat.

His fingers rhythmically kneaded Jeff's thighs. Jeff imagined those fingers on the trigger of a gun, or thrusting and twisting deep in his ass. Two fingers, pushed in all the way. Knuckles rubbing against his insides.

His balls seized up like they'd been doused in ice water. "I'm going to come," he yelped.

Kirill lifted his head. His mouth was red and lax. He looked like a _whore_. Jeff ground his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut. His cock trembled, shaking off drips of precome.

"You may," he said mildly, and reached a hand underneath Jeff, gripping his shaft firmly. At the same time he bent his head again. Jeff felt that tongue on his asshole again and shot so hard he couldn't see anymore.

There was a wet spot on the fake leather underneath him, but he was too worn out to do anything about it. His watch was beeping, too; had been for a while. It meant it was at least twenty-one hundred, and Jeff had two hours to pack up the office and get to the train station.

Kirill worked his hand free of Jeff's deadweight and shook it; the fingers were obviously asleep. Jeff watched him through one cracked eyelid.

"We'll be in Chicago for the next six weeks," he mumbled.

"I'll be in Iran."

That made Jeff open his eyes. "What are you transacting?"

Kirill smiled thinly and reached for his pants. "You know better than to ask. But I will say that that annoying little man" — _Mahmoud Ahmadinejad_ , Jeff's mind filled in— "will not get what he wants while I am in his country."

Jeff pushed himself upright. He could wash up on the train, he told himself, and reached for his clothes. "I like the sound of that. Did you grow a conscience?"

Kirill adjusted his pant cuffs, standing next to Jeff. Jeff saw the tape around his calf first, and then the blade laid along his ankle second. Fuck, he'd missed that one, even while he'd been lying on Kirill's legs.

"Don't get used to it," Kirill said.

Jeff shut his watch alarm off. Then he looked up, then stood up, taking his time. Kirill was standing close to the couch. Jeff brushed the crotch of Kirill's pants as he stood, without even trying. He touched the red teeth marks around Kirill's nipple and watched the flexing of his chest muscles in reaction.

"Did you show me that for a reason?"

Kirill smiled, innocent as a snake. "No. I still haven't fucked you yet."


End file.
